One of those Very Long Nights
by Pyroette
Summary: Post 4x4 drabble, pure fluff. Two members of the graveyard shift at the end of their day.


**Authors Note**: Strandard disclaimers apply: This is not for profit, characters don't belong to me, etc.

* * *

Sara Sidle sank slowly to the bench, letting her head fall into her hands. It had been one of those Very Long Days. After the fiasco with the body builder and the mouldy wall of doom, she had been given a robbery case that was plaguing her. The evidence pointed to a string of serial robberies in the same neighbourhood, but the facts didn't add up right. _Always trust the evidence_, she thought, spouting Grissom's favourite phrase. _Oh how I love copycats_. Sara sighed, glad she could finally go home and take a nice hot bath and then climb into bed for a long, long time. She was rubbing her neck absently, trying to work out the knot that had formed there over the last few hours. Suddenly strong hands pushed hers out of the way and continued the massage. Sara couldn't help but moan loudly. "You have no idea how good that feels," she told the man behind her. 

"Tough day?" he asked, smiling though she couldn't see it.

"Just long," she replied. "We had to deal with the mould, and then Gris saddled me with this copycat robbery out in Henderson." Sara was disappointed when Greg stopped his spontaneous massage, but she thankfully didn't vocalize as much. He lowered himself to the bench, straddling it beside her so he could see her better.

"Oh yeah, must be real hard to sneak a peek at your partner with his trousers down," Greg teased.

"Hey, I can't help the way my eyes were pointed; the HazMat guys were turning me!" Sara protested in self defence.

"You keep telling yourself that, you pervy little minx," he continued. "So, you never said anything. Comments? Questions? Declarations of lust?" he asked with a grin and a wink.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Greg, do you ever get tired of pretending to hit on me?"

Greg feigned wounded surprise. "Sara, I'm hurt! You think my honest romantic gestures are in fact, in jest? I mean every word!"

She laughed shortly, replying with a sarcastic, "Sure, whatever you say…"

Greg stopped short, his playful smile falling. "You really think I'm not interested in you?" he asked incredulously. Without waiting for an answer, he stood and opened his nearby locker, pulling out a piece of paper. Greg sat back down as he had been, still straddling the bench, and handed Sara the paper, which appeared to be a menu. "I've had that in my locker for the last two and a half months, waiting until I had enough courage to ask you to go with me," Greg said quietly, stopping himself before he began babbling like he usually did. When Sara didn't say anything, he took a deep breath and asked, "So would you? Like to, I mean?"

Sara's well trained eyes took in every detail of the menu in her hand. _It's a vegetarian restaurant_, she thought. _He remembered that I'm a vegetarian_… She was startled out of such bewildered thoughts by Greg's question. "Huh? Would I like to what?" she asked, confused.

Greg tried to swallow his nervousness again, and repeated, "Would you like to go to this place for dinner sometime? With me?"

Sara lapsed into silence again, contemplating Greg's offer. She had never taken him seriously, or never realized his true feelings, being too oblivious and too…well, her feelings had previously rested elsewhere. But here, now…it didn't seem weird. He's a nice man, cute, smart, shares at least some of her interests. This could work. "Sure," Sara said cautiously. Greg didn't appear to hear her, so she said a little louder, "Sure, I'd love to go to dinner with you, Greg."

"That's oh-" Greg started, and then stopped. "Wait, you want to? Really?" Sara smiled again, that little smile where one side of her upper lip went higher than the other, the one that always made Greg's heart flip-flop. "Wow. So, uh, when?" he asked, feeling this strange rush of relief and nervousness all at the same time. "We can go one night before our shift, maybe? Or on a day off, perhaps. When are your days off? I think I'm off Monday and Tuesday next week, if either of those work for yo-" Greg's rambling was cut off with Sara's hand placed over his mouth.

"Down, boy," she teased lightly, removing her hand.

"Sorry. I'm just kind of…excited, y'know. Not excited _that_ way, but just…well, kinda that way too, just not at the moment. Not that I'm not attracted, because I am, I swear…" Sara rolled her eyes once again, thinking, _Does he ever shut up?_, before leaning forward slightly and kissing him to produce the desired effect. Which it did, of course, cutting Greg's words short for the second time in as many minutes.

Neither of the two CSIs on the bench heard the footsteps walking away from the

room where they sat, the footsteps of a tall man with round glasses and distinguished looking greying hair.

"Gris?" called a red-headed woman from behind him.

"Hm? Oh, yes Catherine?" the man asked as he turned to face her, stopping to wait for her to catch up.

"You okay? You don't look so good," Catherine said, concerned for her former supervisor.

"I'm fine. I'm just on my way home," he replied, continuing his walk as she arrived beside him.

She asked, "Any plans tonight?"

Grissom shook his head. "Nope, just going to ride a few roller coasters."

* * *

Review if you want, ConCrit always appreciated. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! 


End file.
